Work Text:
the land relinquished her ghost
~Pale White Horse, Oh Hellos
Dipper’s a good horse.
Arthur had had to put a lot of work into her. She’d been a rescue - he’d taken her out from under a Raider, found her half dead, mane matted and legs shaking, eyes dull and lacking anything resembling a will to live.
He’d loved her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
She’d nearly killed him when he worked at getting her tail unmatted, kicking him so hard in the chest she threw him off his feet. But he’d dusted himself off, plied her with peppermints (he’d discovered they were her favorites) and managed to survive getting the knots and tangles out of her mane and tail if by the skin of his teeth, and she’d clearly felt so much better without it pulling at her skin, amenable to him tending to her scrapes and scratches and tending to her hooves.
It had taken months, but finally he’d been able to saddle her again, and they’d started going for rides. If he didn’t take her out at least a few times a week she’d ignore Miss Grimshaw’s screaming to shove her way into camp and yank at his jacket, dragging him out of camp and up to the hitching post, demanding he tack her up and go for even the shortest ride.
He’d loved Boadicea, and no horse would ever stand up to her. But Dipper was the first horse he’d met that he thought could, and eventually, did, follow in her hoofsteps.
Arthur had decided to take her out for a long trail ride.
She’d gotten fussy, as she always did when they spent too long in camp, too long riding the same paths. He’d wanted to see what he could find - not go hunting, not run bounties. Just ride around, him and his horse.
Dipper had always been ridiculously well behaved, aside from barging into camp and hauling him around. So long as he was in her saddle, she was happy to let him take the reins - quite literally. Though if there was danger, she wasn’t afraid to tell him. Would start grunting, throwing her head.
So when she began to scream, throwing her head and shrilling at the top of her lungs, he was alarmed. Had never seen her act as such, even when she’d been new to him, messy and hurt and scared.
He’d jumped from her saddle, grabbing her reins when she began to rear, trying to talk her down, kissing his teeth and love-talking her, but she continued to strain against her reins, slamming her hooves so hard into the dirt she left indents. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he dropped one hand to his gun, looking around for… well he wasn’t sure what—
—and then the earth was moving.
Rocking beneath him, roaring so loudly his ears began to ring, and Dipper tore her reins from his hand so rapidly she ripped his skin and he began to bleed, whirling and racing away.
He tried to chase her, staggered and went to his knees as the ground rippled, slapped his hands down to brace himself, closed his eyes and gagged as his stomach churned, quickly growing dizzy until—
—finally, as abruptly as it began, it stopped.
He dropped his head, grinding his forehead into the dirt, heaving as he tried not to be sick. Arthur’d been in one earthquake in his life, and had never wanted to be in another one again, thankyouverymuch, but since when had he ever gotten what he wanted?
‘Dipper!’
Arthur lurched to his feet, keeled over, was violently sick, staggered to his feet again, and whistled sharply.
There was no response.
He whistled again.
There was no response.
Arthur’s heart leaped into his throat, and he began to head in the direction that Dipper had darted off in, calling her name. The ground had changed considerably - trees had dropped their branches and fallen onto the path, rocks had tumbled on and off the trail, and fissures had left the dirt jagged and uneven. He wasted valuable time picking his way around tiny ledges and gaping holes, tossing branches out of the way and vaulting over fallen trees and rocks, whistling in between calls of “Dipper!” and “Here girl!”
He heard the screaming before he saw her.
His heart broke, and he skidded along the dirt as he ran as quickly as he could to her, dropping to his knees at her side. “Oh, Dipper,”
she whickered at him, tried to stand, and collapsed back to the ground when he pressed against her shoulder, “Easy girl, easy, stay down.” she flattened her ears but did, shaking like a leaf, her neck sweaty beneath his hand, making a final attempt to stand when he removed his hand to wipe his eyes, burning suspiciously.
But her leg was well-stuck, trapped in a fissure in the ground, and he could see bone sticking out of the black of her leg. He took a shaky breath, pressed her down, “No girl, easy, it’s okay,” and she butted her head against his chest as she folded her forelegs beneath her as though she were laying down in the grass next to camp, snuffling at his pockets as he hugged her head.
Arthur couldn’t help the way his laugh was watery as he removed a hand to dig out a peppermint, then two, then three, then all of them, letting her eat the entire handful, pressing his forehead against her dark head, burying it in her forelock. “S’okay girl, s’okay. I’ve got you baby girl.”
She crunched contentedly, ears perking when he dug through his satchel and offered her the rest he carried with him, unaware of the way his eyes burned with tears, though she did take a moment to butt her head into his chest when she heard his breathing hitch. He grinned, “S’okay girl,” again, carefully adjusting his grip on his gun, pressing a kiss to her forelock, aligning his gun and taking a deep breath, listening to her crunch on the peppermints,
“I love you so much girl,” crunch crunch, “Thank you.”
Arthur took a while to collect himself, wishing more than anything that he could bury her, but even if he could get her leg unstuck she was far too heavy for him to drag and he had nothing to dig a grave with. So, once he could see without the world wavering, he collected a fistful of her mane and cut it as close to her neck as he could, braiding it and carefully tucking it into his satchel before going to work untacking her.
It's a very long walk back to the nearest stable, her saddle heavy in his arms.